


Say My Name

by Nacre_Voit



Category: One Direction (Band), Union J (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Complete, Jaymi and George are my platonic otp, Jaymi puts up with a lot of shit, M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 05:46:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2337401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nacre_Voit/pseuds/Nacre_Voit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Look, I’m sure you’re lovely, mate.” George’s fingers stroke through his hair. “But I don’t want to be your boyfriend. I just want a quick fuck from the one person who isn’t going to mix me up with you while I’m bonking them.”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>George keeps hooking up with strangers who confuse him with Harry Styles when they're having sex. He finds Harry backstage at an awards show and works out his frustrations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say My Name

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I'm not affiliated with these darlings, I don't make money from them, and nobody says 'Say my name' in any part of this fic. I just saw an opportunity to name two fics in a row after Destiny's Child and Beyoncé songs and I was never going to walk away from that.
> 
> There's a joke in this that relates to my first fic [Partition](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2318975) , and this occurs after that one in the same universe, but it exists as a stand-alone.

 

George storms into their hotel room with a pout that would melt Jaymi’s heart, if Jaymi’s heart had not been inured to George’s facial expressions long ago. He’s pacing back and forth, and Jaymi knows they’re all going to hear at length about whatever he’s sulking about anyway, so he decides to do the decent thing and ask him.

“Tell us what’s wrong then.”

George turns to him with a wounded expression.

“She called me Harry Styles, in bed, while I was going down on her.”

Josh snorts and JJ tries to put on a philosophical expression.

“That’s quite a compliment, if you think about it,” JJ tells him. “Loads of girls love him. I bet most guys would be flattered to be always getting compared with him.”

George shoots him an incredulous look.

“While they’re eating _fanny_?”

“Hey, look on the bright side,” Josh says, with less diplomacy, “how do you know she meant Harry Styles? She might’ve just meant some ex whose name was Harry. So she might not’ve been confusing you with a richer, more famous pop star.”

George flips him off.

“I know because she literally moaned ‘Harry _Styles_ ’. Who the fuck moans someone’s _surname_ while they’re going down on them?” George collapses on the sofa with a huff. “And then she squirted in my eye. So that’s a zero out of ten for my morning, _would not_ recommend.”

“I wasn’t going to go to booty calls with girls at 10:30 in the morning,” Jaymi tells him, “but thanks for clearing up any last doubts in my mind on that one.”

“I feel violated,” George pouts. “I’m _never_ shagging a stranger again.”

Jaymi pats him on the shoulder while rolling his eyes in the other direction.

“Of course you won’t, love.”

 

*

 

Four afternoons later, they’re all in Starbucks, and George is flirting with the attractive barista. He’s pulling the pouty-lipped innocent act, leaning over the counter and playing with his straw with wide, bright eyes. Jaymi watches them exchange numbers, and then George is walking back to the table, biting his lip to hide a grin.

Jaymi sips his coffee and thinks about how he’s always right.

 

*

 

“Put it in,” George breathes. He’s on his stomach on the bed, with his jeans pulled down just enough for hot Starbucks guy to get his fingers inside him. Hot Starbucks guy has a name, but George isn’t concerned about it just now. All he wants is either an interview or a fuck where no one compares him to Harry Styles, and he’s got a fuck right here, so.

The guy takes his fingers out, puts on a condom, and slides into George in one thrust.

“God, you feel good,” the guy moans, and George curls his fingers in the pillow and pushes his hips back on his cock.

“I know.” George feels like he’s had enough uninspired positive feedback on his arse during sex to make that call.

The guy’s cock is curved at just the right angle, and George bites his lip and wriggles his hips, moaning as the guy grips his hips and pounds into him in response.

“Are you always this tight?” Starbucks guy gets out between pants, and George rolls his eyes.

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never fucked my own arse?”

The guy shuts up, and George is just getting _really_ into it, when he leans over and moans in George’s ear.

“H-George.”

George opens his eyes and freezes on the spot.

“ _What_?”

“Just saying your name because you’re so good on my cock.”

“‘Huh-George’?” George mimics, disengaging himself from the guy’s cock and getting off the bed. “What the fuck were you about to call me?”

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” Starbucks guy grins as George pulls up his jeans. “You do look a lot alike.”

George puts on his Timberlands and fumes.

“Do I still get to fuck you sometime?”

George gives him a withering look, picks up his shirt, and leaves with what’s left of his dignity.

 

*

 

Harry Styles is backstage at the Brit awards, leaning on the wall and texting when George Shelley walks up to him and shoves him in the chest.

“Come on then, _fuck_ me.”

Harry is so shocked he drops his phone.

“I’m sorry?”

“You like blokes, right? You’re looking at Louis Tomlinson like he’s made of stars or some shit in every second picture of you I’ve seen. Do you think I’m pretty?”

“I uh, yes, definitely,” Harry says, feeling even more confused.

“Good, do me then.”

George’s lips are pink and full in front of his face, and Harry pulls his eyes away from them and tries to collect his thoughts.

“We don’t really know each other very well…”

George lets out a frustrated sigh and steps into Harry’s personal space, putting his fingers in his hair and looking up and down his body with his large, dark eyes. Harry’s breath quickens.

“Look, I’m sure you’re lovely, mate.” George’s fingers stroke through his hair. “But I don’t want to be your boyfriend. I just want a quick fuck from the one person who isn’t going to mix me up with you while I’m bonking them.”

“Woah,” Harry says. He sort of can’t believe this is happening to him.

George lowers his eyelashes, bites his lip and looks up at Harry again.

“Or a longer fuck. You could be on top.”

Harry looks down at George’s lips again.

“Uummmm.”

 

*

 

“I’m kind of supposed to be somewhere else tonight,” Harry gets out breathlessly as George sucks his lips and backs him into his own house.

“’S alright,” George tells him, licking just inside his lower lip and undoing his belt with one hand. “I told your driver to wait outside. I’ll get you off quick.”

The drive from the awards show to his place is a bit of a fog for Harry, because George had managed to get his whole hand inside his pants in the backseat. Having a breathy George Shelley climb into his lap behind the partition of a limousine was beyond overwhelming. It turns out George _really_ likes limos.

They fall to the floor beside Harry’s sofa, George landing on top of him with his arms on either side of Harry’s chest. His curls fall over his face for a moment, and then he smiles at Harry, his lips wide and flushed and a little bit wet from kissing him.

“You look _really_ good,” Harry breathes, and George grins as his fingers open the buttons on Harry’s shirt, working down his stomach.

“You’re the one thousands of girls are screaming over.” George leans down and licks the exposed butterfly tattoo on Harry’s chest. Harry gasps as he watches his pink tongue drag over the ink. George is more attractive than most people he’s met in his life, and it still feels a bit surreal that he wants to touch him.

“There’s no girls here…’ he tells him softly, trying not to arch into it as George lowers his head to the ferns inked on his hips. George looks distracted, rushing over Harry’s body like he needs to cover set points before he ends up on his dick, and all Harry can see of his face are his eyelashes, fluttering restlessly as his lips work over his skin. He knows what’s he’s doing with his lips and his tongue, and Harry bites his lip, because it feels _good_ , and he’s getting uncomfortable inside his jeans, but he doesn’t want this to be over as quickly as it’s going to be.

“Hey,” he says as George’s fingers go for the zipper on his jeans, reaching down and tentatively putting a hand in George’s curls. “Would it be okay if we go slower?”

George sits back in Harry’s lap, putting his hands flat on his chest. Harry feels nervous, shivering a little as George’s fingers fan out, brushing over his nipples.

“Your driver…” George points out, and Harry gives him a sheepish smile.

“He’s sort of used to one or other of us disappearing when we’re supposed to go to an after party.” Harry lies back on his curls and hopes he looks seductive. “I’d rather get told off later and get to touch you all over.”

“Alright,” George says, lowering his eyelashes with a slow smile. “You like it slow.”

Harry laughs a little breathlessly.

“I don’t really know how I like it with guys.” He puts his hand on the side of George’s thigh, rubbing the pad of his thumb on the warm muscles inside his jeans. “I just want to go slow with you.”

“No way.” George gazes down at him with an amused, cynical look. When Harry just flushes and looks down at his thumb on his thigh, his expression turns incredulous. “ _No way_. You haven’t ever, with a guy?”

“I’ve kissed guys…” Harry mumbles, and George slumps in his lap. He sits there for a moment with his mouth open, staring at Harry as though he’s really assessing him for the first time.

“Well fuck.” George cards his fingers through his hair, looking frustrated. “Why didn’t you say anything about it?”

 “I was distracted by you almost pushing me over and then grinding on my dick in the car?”

“You’ve got a point,” George concedes. He looks distracted again, but not by Harry’s dick this time, and Harry’s stomach sinks.

“Not that I minded.” He gives him a small smile. “I liked it…” He draws a little circle on George’s thigh with his thumb. “So I guess you’ve been with guys…”

George sighs and grins.

 “God, I’ve been with guys. Look, I should go.” He gets off Harry’s lap, and Harry swallows.

“Does it not turn you on, if someone hasn’t before, or-”

“No, it’s not that, I’m just…Come on, I’m gonna feel sleazy if I do that. I would _love_ to fuck you, I’m just not gonna take advantage of whatever’s going on with you and your…” he makes a hand gesture as he trails off, “…friend.”

Harry sits up and rests his arms on his knees as George walks towards the door. He remembers George’s comment at the awards about how he looks at Louis, and looks down at his shoes.

“Later then,” George starts to say, but Harry finds his voice as the singer’s long fingers are about to close on the door handle.

“He’s got a girlfriend, is what’s going on with him.”

George bites his lip.

“I’m sorry-”

“He couldn’t touch me if he wanted to. But you could touch me _anywhere_ you wanted.” Harry spreads his legs, and George’s lip curls. “I’m turned on. And I’m not confused about who you are.”

George laughs.

“You’d be the first person I’ve gotten alone this week who’s not then.” His head is turned back, and he’s gazing at the place between Harry’s thighs, where his cock is still a little swollen inside his jeans. Harry flushes, but he spreads his thighs until they ache.

“That’s not what I meant. I didn’t take you home to pretend like you were another guy…I mean, why would I?” George is walking towards him slowly now, his long legs showing flashes of soft skin through the rips on his tight, dark blue jeans. “Look at you.”

George stops in front of his feet, and Harry looks up at his legs and his crotch and his wrists and his lower lip. He feels his pulse rushing, because George is looking down over him like a wet dream.

“Anywhere I want, huh.”

“Anywhere. Come on.” Harry goes for what he hopes is a sly grin. “Don’t you want to get Harry Styles naked on the floor?”

“It’s your first time, mate,” George grins, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “I’ll fuck you on the sofa.”

He holds out a hand for Harry and pulls him off the floor. George doesn’t let go of his hand, turning and looking at Harry over his shoulder as he leads him towards the sofa. He bites his lip as he looks back at Harry, eyes dropping to his lips and then back to his eyes with an impish grin. He spins around when they’re just in front of the sofa, so that Harry takes an extra step forward without him and they’re suddenly in each other’s personal space.

“So how slow do you wanna go?”

“I…” George’s fingers are trailing from his hand up his arm and Harry can’t concentrate.

“What do you want me to take off before I start feeling you up again?” George smirks, tugging at the neckline of his shirt to illustrate.

“Can I take that off you?” Harry asks, his voice coming out a little throatier than he was expecting as he gathers the fabric of George’s t-shirt in his hand against his abdomen. George looks up from toeing off his shoes and socks. His eyes are wide for a moment as he looks at Harry, like he’s actually surprised.

“You’re almost too hot to be giving this away to me,” he murmurs, getting even closer to Harry so that their lips are inches apart.

“Almost?” Harry smiles, pressing his hand harder against George’s stomach.

“Yeah,” George breathes. He takes Harry’s wrists and slides his hands up his sides under his shirt, letting Harry feel the soft skin of his waist and the outlines of his ribs. “Go for it.”

When Harry pulls George’s shirt over his head they’re on each other in seconds, sucking each other’s lips as their fingers move over their chests and backs and arms. George is soft and slender at the same time, and Harry tentatively reaches down and squeezes his arse with one hand. George moans into his mouth in approval and puts his fingers over Harry’s on his arse, pushing up harder. Harry gasps as their hips align and their cocks rub over each other for a second through their jeans.

“Have you ever fucked a girl up the arse?” George breathes in his ear, and Harry moans and puts his hand on George’s throat.

“I haven’t,” he moves forward into George, so their cocks and their stomachs rub against each other again. “I’ve touched myself like that…with my fingers.”

George lets himself fall back on the sofa. His eyes are dark on Harry’s as he spreads his legs so that Harry can see the line of his cock in his jeans.

“Good, then you know what you’re gonna do to me.”

Harry gets butterflies in his stomach as he looks at George’s open thighs.

“Do you always ‘go slowly’ by getting fingered by guys as soon as you’ve taken your top off?” he laughs, and George licks his lips, leaving them wet as he gives him a bright-eyed smirk.

“Get on top of me and _then_ tell me how long you wanna go slow for.”

George lies down on the sofa as Harry kicks off his shoes. He almost trips over his own legs as he drags his socks off, because George is rubbing his own cock inside his jeans, digging the heel of his hand into it and watching him like he wants him inside him already. George draws his knees back as Harry approaches him, holding his calves with them spread so that Harry can crawl over him between them. They’re both a bit too tall for the sofa, so Harry has to bend his knees as George’s legs wrap around him and pull him closer.

 It feels so good to be on top of George like this: their chests pressed against each other and their cocks rubbing through the fabric of their jeans as they bury their fingers in each other’s curls. Harry moans as their mouths touch, accidentally at first, because George leans down to undo his own jeans at the same time as Harry leans up to kiss him. And that almost turns Harry on _more_ , that hot rush of breath and one second of soft lips on his. George’s eyelashes flutter, and he doesn’t try to look down again, letting Harry feel his wrist working under his abdomen as he pulls his jeans open without touching Harry’s cock inches away from his.

“My jeans were getting tight,” he says, his voice deep and whispery at the same time. “Try that again.”

George is ready for him this time, and his lips open for Harry, letting him suck on his full lower lip until it’s wet and a tiny bit swollen. George licks Harry’s lips as their mouths come apart, and Harry wraps his fingers around George’s hip, pushing his open jeans lower down. George’s tongue slides into his mouth, and Harry drags his thumb down the line of his pelvic muscle and just inside his briefs.

“God, I’m so ready to touch you,” he says, and that sounds stupid in his ears the moment it comes out of his mouth, but he feels George’s heartbeat get faster against his chest. George gets his arm between their chests and tweaks Harry’s nipple, his breath damp on his neck.  
  
“Do you wanna get me undressed?”

“I wanna get you on my _cock_ ,” Harry says. He’s flushing at his own words, half-naked on top of a stranger, but he doesn’t care. George rubs his nipple between his forefinger and thumb, making Harry moan as he drags his tongue along his throat. He arches his hips, making Harry’s thumb slide lower inside his briefs.

“Do you want it like this?” George breathes. “Face to face, with my legs over your shoulders?” He grins as Harry backs up onto his knees on the sofa and starts to pull his jeans off. The dark blue fabric clings to his long legs as it comes down, and George’s curls bounce and fall over his eyes as Harry yanks the jeans off his calves, pulling him down on the sofa so his legs are in the air. George lowers his thick lashes, his thighs bent back so that Harry’s eyes are drawn along their muscles to his cock. “Or do you want me to ride it?”

Harry pauses, staring with his lips parted at George’s cock, hard inside the maroon fabric of his briefs. George catches his eyes, arching his hips a little more and rubbing his long fingers along his erection over the fabric. Harry moans as he watches him touch himself, and then leans forward and places an open-mouthed kiss on the underside of his thigh. He wraps his own hand around George’s cock as he mouths at the curve of his thigh, lapping at the muscles with his tongue as he strokes slowly up and down. George’s skin feels hot under his tongue and he tastes musky as Harry softly bites into his skin. He shudders at the feeling of George’s cock, wrapped in his fingers inside a soft layer of fabric. He wants to look at what his hand is doing, but he’s almost scared he’ll be too turned on.

It doesn’t feel as strange as he thought it would, touching another guy like he touches himself to make himself come. George’s breath is stuttering as his strokes get firmer, and when Harry finally brings himself to look up at him his pulse speeds up and he bites his lip, because George’s eyelashes are fluttering as he arches into the friction of the fabric and Harry’s fingers. The head of his cock is pushing softly against the fabric, and what Harry really wants to do is get him naked underneath him, so that he can look at him and touch him and _suck_ on him like he wants to, but he doesn’t know the words to ask for that.

“What do you usually like to do?” he asks, smiling nervously as George laughs.

“Well, I rode a dick on a desk chair with Nirvana playing the other day. But I feel like that’s not what you have in mind.”

“So you like to be on top?” Harry twists his wrist and George gasps.

“If I’m gonna spread my legs for guys,” George smirks. He looks up at Harry, chewing on his thick bottom lip deliberately. “There are always exceptions though. I’m flexible.”

He wriggles his hips, stretching his legs down and digging his heels into Harry’s calves, and Harry uses his weight to flip them over so George is on top of him. George sits back in Harry’s lap, arching his back and digging his thumbs inside his briefs. He starts to lower them, and Harry’s cock throbs inside his jeans as he watches the lines of muscle down his abdomen narrow. George stops before he exposes his cock, wrapping his fingers around it and tugging it sideways a little as he pumps it through the fabric.

“Ask me.”

Harry swallows.

“Take them off. Show me.”

Harry moans as George pulls the underwear down to his thighs. His cock is long and flushed against his stomach, and it must show on his face, how much he likes what he’s looking at, because George gives him a wicked grin and strokes it, swiping his thumb over the head.

“Are you sure you want to…take it?” Harry asks, flushing as George smiles and leans forward to play with his nipples. “I could…”

George grins at him so widely that Harry’s stomach feels like it back flips into his chest, because George looks _gorgeous_ , sitting on his lap with his eyes bright and dark at the same time.

“I’m flattered you like my cock,” George says, bending over and sucking on Harry’s nipple, lazily flicking his tongue over it until Harry moans. “But getting on yours is gonna sit with my conscience a bit better.” He drags his tongue along Harry’s collar bone, reaching down and sliding his hand inside his jeans. “It’s the easiest way to make you feel good…” Harry shivers as George’s breath rushes over the wet skin he’s just licked. George cups his balls through his briefs, pushing up softly as his teeth graze his neck, and Harry’s hips arch up uncontrollably.

“I want to make you feel good too…” he says, bringing his hands down to help George get his jeans down to his thighs as fast as possible. George leans back and smirks, dragging his arse softly along Harry’s cock.

“Oh, you will.”

Harry’s jeans are trapped around his thighs, and so are George’s briefs, the fabric stretched where his thighs are spread apart astride Harry’s body. Harry tugs at them softly, and George gets the hint and gets off the sofa, grinning at Harry over his shoulder as he bends over to pull them off. Harry tries not to just lie there with his mouth open as he looks at George’s arse, kicking his own jeans and underwear off and turning on his side as George steps towards him.

George doesn’t seem shy, walking up to Harry until his erection is level with Harry’s face and wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue as he looks down at him. Harry wraps his fingers around George’s cock and leans over, licking along it as he looks up at George with wide, nervous eyes.

“Oh fuck,” George gasps. “ _Fuck_ ,” he breathes, fisting his fingers in Harry’s hair even as he pulls his hips away from him. “You shouldn’t-”

“But I want to,” Harry murmurs, tentatively extending his hand again.

“And I want you to swallow my cock like you’ve not eaten for a month, but you shouldn’t, without a condom.”

“Oh,” Harry flushes, but George doesn’t let go of his hair. George’s fingers are tight and he’s biting his lip like he can’t help it now, and Harry realises that he really _liked_ it. “Not even if I just use my tongue?” he says, looking up at George through his lashes and sticking out his tongue with his mouth open.

George groans.

“If you really want to go down on me, go get a condom from my pocket before I forget about my morals.”

Harry is still flushing, but he grins and does what he’s told.

 

*

 

Harry Styles is _really_ good at sucking cock, for someone who’s never done it before. George is sweating with his legs spread on his sofa and Harry on his knees between them. Harry looks like he’s concentrating as he wraps his fingers around the base of George’s cock, working them up and down as he sucks on the top with his soft pink lips. His curls fall into his eyes every few seconds, and he frustratedly brushes them away. Sometimes George does it for him, twisting a few curls around his fingers and rubbing his fingers into Harry’s head so he’s got a clear view of his cock disappearing inside those lips. They’re swollen from sucking, and Harry’s drooling a bit, because every so often he edges closer on his knees and tries to get it deep inside his throat.

George gasps as Harry’s lips touch the base of his cock again, sucking softly even as he gags. He looks so good that George is worried about coming, and he’s panting by the time Harry comes off his cock again with a frustrated whine.

“I’m not very good at this,” Harry says, wiping his hand over his mouth so his fingers and his wrist shine with his own spit. George lets out a breathy laugh, trying not to let his eyes fix on the slick fingers that he’s going to have thrust inside him.

“You could’ve fooled me.” And George isn’t fucking around. His balls are tight and his thighs are trembling, but he still doesn’t want Harry to stop. “Your mouth is so fucking good.”

Harry sticks out his lower lip.

“I can’t deep-throat without choking.” He looks genuinely distressed, like George’s cock _belongs_ in his throat, and George curses softly under his breath.

“It’s practice,” George tells him, “and you don’t need to.” He strokes his fingers along Harry’s face as Harry looks up at him with wide, green eyes. “Come on, open your mouth for me, I want you.”

George whines and his hips arch as Harry goes down again, circling his tongue around the sensitive head of his cock and then sucking on it until his cheeks hollow out. He’s letting his saliva run down George’s cock and then moving his mouth up and down as his hair falls over his shoulders. He looks and sounds obscene, eyelashes fluttering closed after a few seconds every time he tries to look up at George with his lips around his cock, and it only takes a couple of minutes before George is close.

“Stop,” he gasps, tugging at Harry’s hair. Harry gives him a last lick and looks up at him with dilated pupils and parted lips.

“Why?”

“Because I want to grind on your cock until you stutter?”

Harry’s mouth falls open a little wider, and George almost pushes his head down again.

“God, tell me you have lube.”

“Bedroom,” Harry says breathlessly, stumbling to his feet and rushing off down the hall. “Just a sec!” he calls out, and George pulls the condom off and finds a bin. He hears something fall over in another room as he walks back to the sofa and stretches out, spreading his thighs and stroking himself. Harry reappears naked and flushed a moment later, clutching a bottle of lubricant and another condom. He crawls on top of George and kisses him on the mouth, and George moans as their thighs and their cocks rub together.

“Get them really wet,” he says in Harry’s ear, wrapping his hand tight around the heart tattooed on Harry’s arm. Harry gasps and thrusts his body against him one more time. He backs up on the sofa and drags George on top of him. George kneels astride Harry’s stomach, chewing on his lip restlessly as he looks at Harry’s cock. When Harry’s fingers are coated in lubricant, George takes his wrist and guides them between his thighs.

 “Just give me two at once,” he says, “I like it pretty rough.” Harry’s eyes widen, and George licks his lips and adjusts his hips as Harry’s fingers press against his arse. Harry gasps when they slide inside him, his cock pulsing as his pretty green eyes look flustered and wild.

“You’re so tight,” he says as he tries to stretch his fingers inside, “My cock is never-”  

“Gonna fit?” George asks, pushing his hips down and getting off on the pressure. “I fucked a guy with a ten-inch cock once. I think you and I will work something out.”

Harry flushes.

“I just…” his breathing is unsteady, the butterfly on his chest appearing to shudder as he inhales, and George smiles as he leans back and works himself open on his fingers.

“It’s fine. It’s _so_ fine. I had the same thing the first time I tried to jerk off like that. I ended up miserably telling Jaymi I was a freak who could never have gay sex.”

“What did he say?”

“He cut me off before I was half-finished talking and said ‘More lube’ and then ‘Never talk to me about this again’.”

Harry laughs and George feels him relax underneath him and start to move his fingers. He looks up at George with a shy smile.

“It just feels so good…” he looks a little bit awed as he tentatively thrusts his fingers into George’s body. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

George grins.

“You’d better fucking not, I’m performing tomorrow.” He arches into Harry’s fingers as they curl and push against the sweet spot inside him. “ _There._ God, there.” Harry drives his fingers up inside him, curling them and rubbing him there again, and George moans and grinds back on them until he loses his breath and pre-come is leaking from his cock. “Your cock, _now_ ,” he breathes, and Harry nods breathlessly, slowly pulling his fingers out as George grabs the condom from the sofa beside him and tears the packet open.

George strokes the condom along Harry’s cock, and Harry gets more lube on his fingers and entwines them with George’s, so they’re pumping his cock together until he’s ready. George angles his hips back so it’s pressing against his arse and looks at Harry’s eyes one last time, silently checking if George Shelley riding his cock is still what he really wants. And Harry understands, because he strokes George’s thighs and pushes his hips up in a tiny, impatient thrust.

“God, please, I want you on my cock, _God_.”

His voice is a hot, needy murmur, and George shudders and bears down on his cock. The friction as it pushes inside is excruciating at first, and George hisses as he digs his fingers into Harry’s chest and tries to adjust to the stretch. He likes it like this, stretching until it hurts: until the sensation rushes up his spine and makes him shiver as endorphins shoot all over his body. The ache is already turning into pleasure as he looks down at Harry’s gorgeous face, flushed and tilted up to his. Harry’s mouth is open as he tries to adjust to the new sensation without moving, and George leans down and kisses him, open-mouthed and slow as he lets the base of his cock slide out of his body.

“It’s gonna be so good,” George whispers, pushing Harry’s curls away from his face, “when you come inside me.” He pushes back down and Harry’s breath stutters. He whines when George does it again, getting his fist in George’s hair and kissing him hard.

“For you?” he asks, breath wet on George’s lips, and it kind of turns George on, how solicitous and _sweet_ he is with a stranger spread open on his cock.

“Oh, I’ve got mine,” he smiles into Harry’s lips. “Unless you’re gonna call me Harry Styles.” He leans back and circles his hips, and Harry gasps and starts to pump his hips up into him. “Your cock is _really_ good.”

“I can’t believe people compare you to me,” Harry says breathlessly, his fingers coming around George’s hips and pushing him down on his cock. “Fuck!” He throws his head back as George drives down, sending his curls tumbling over the sofa. “You look so perfect.”

George gazes down at Harry’s body, gasping a little as Harry thrusts his cock inside him. Harry’s skin is golden and covered in a fine sheen of sweat, the ferns and the butterfly tattooed on his skin drawing the eye to the lines of his hips and his chest, where his nipples are puffy and flushed even though George has barely touched them. George moans as his eyes trail up the birds framing Harry’s collar bones and his throat, straining as he tilts his head back and swallows at the feeling of George riding his cock. His lips are cake-frosting pink as he gasps, his face framed by long, tangled curls, and his green eyes are glazing as he watches George lean back and stroke his cock.

“Looking at you now, I don’t think I fucking mind.”

“I’ve fantasised about you before,” Harry breathes, running his fingers up George’s torso and thumbing at his nipples. “I was watching one of your videos and you were wet…”

“I was wet,” George repeats, struggling to think and form speech as he and Harry both shift the angle of their hips at once and Harry’s cock grinds on his prostate. “ _Oh_ fuck.”

“Is that good?” Harry murmurs. His cheeks are flushed pink as he presses his hands against George’s chest and pumps into him.

“You need to ask?” George gasps out, grinding back relentlessly until Harry lets out a throaty moan and his cock throbs inside him.

“God, I’m not going to last…” Harry rasps, thrusting his hips up so hard that George bounces in his lap. “Let me touch you.” His palms are sweaty on George’s chest, and it takes George a moment to realise what he wants. He takes Harry’s hand and places it on his cock, moaning as Harry closes his fingers around him tighter. He looks into George’s eyes as he works his cock in long, tight strokes, slowly extending his tongue and licking his lips. George shudders. Harry’s palms are damp, alleviating the friction just enough that it doesn’t hurt but it’s still rough, and George whines and thrusts into his fist. Harry’s thighs are almost shivering under him, and he feels him struggling, trying to slow his hips down so he doesn’t come.

George grins, leans forward, braces his arms on the sofa, and rides his cock like it’s the last night of their lives.

Harry’s eyes widen, his chest heaves, and his fingernails dig into George’s chest.

“Stop, or I, uh-” he stutters, his voice deep and desperate as he tenses and his pretty throat starts to glitter with sweat. George licks one thumb, and presses it down into Harry’s pink, swollen nipple. Harry’s cock pulses inside him, and it’s then, as he starts to come, that he moans something George wasn’t expecting.

“ _George_.”

And George is so shocked that he throws his head back and comes.

 

*

 

Harry blinks at George on the sofa beside him. They’re lying with their legs tangled, chests rising and falling slowly as their sweat dries on each other’s bodies. George had stumbled off the sofa at some point, taking the condom off for Harry and going to bin it and find some tissues, but then he’d come back and collapsed beside him again. He looks flushed all over, lazy and satisfied as he stretches, and Harry smiles, because he looks like that from fucking _him_.

“I wish you hadn’t told my driver to stay,” he says with a rueful smile, and George smirks at him through his lashes.

“You can afford it.”

“Heyyyy,” Harry says, but he really doesn’t care. He rubs his foot softly up and down George’s calf, and George raises his eyebrows at him, but there’s a smirk in his eyes and he looks like he’s fine with it.

“Did you really fuck a guy to Nirvana at a desk?”

“‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’,” George grins, flicking his tongue over his teeth. “He let me chew gum the whole time.”

Harry whistles softly and grins. There’s something a bit unreal about George, and he likes it.

“So you and Louis…” George says slowly. Harry thinks for a moment, and then says the most simple thing that comes to him that’s still true.

“Nothing. But I want to. A lot.”

George looks almost relieved that they’re not going to talk about it.

“I’ve watched your interviews. You and Josh always look at each other like…” Harry gives George his best sexy eyes. “Are you guys…?”

George’s eyebrows raise again.

“ _You’ve_ watched _my_ interviews?” Harry just shrugs, not trying to hide his smile as he waggles his eyebrows, and George huffs. “I might…if he wasn’t straight.”

“Have you asked him if he’s straight?” Harry asks, and George turns over and traces a pattern on the tattoos on his arm.

“I just gave you more information than I’ve given to any of my one-night stands about anything other than how great their cock feels,” he smirks, leaning down and dragging his pink tongue over the anatomical heart tattoo. “That’s the last question you get.” He sits up, languidly rolling his shoulders and reaching for his jeans. “I’ve gotta go back to my hotel or Jaymi’s gonna have me executed.”

Harry grins and sticks his tongue out.

“You could stay over. We could braid each other’s hair and talk about Larry Stylinson and Gosh…Or go another round.”

George’s dark eyes are dancing, and he licks his lips as he pulls on his t-shirt.

“Just watch my video again. I’ll be wet all over again.”

He turns back as his hand is on the handle of Harry’s door, and his grin lights up his eyes.

“You look good, Harry Styles. I’ll see you around.”

 

*

 

Jaymi groans as George crawls into the hotel bed they’re sharing at two in the morning and tries to spoon him.

“Oh, for _God’s sake_. Get off me, you smell slutty.”

“It’s my bed and I’m cold. Do you really want me to get a cold and be miserable, Jaymi?” George says, wrapping his arm around Jaymi’s torso. Jaymi can literally feel him pouting against the back of his neck, and he rolls his eyes.

“ _Fine_ , shut up and go to sleep then. I’m _not_ going to have bags under my eyes tomorrow because of you.”

George makes himself comfortable, curling his body around him. He manages to not talk for about seven seconds. Jaymi knows because he’s mentally counting.

“I fucked Harry Styles.”

“Oh you didn’t,” Jaymi groans, putting his hand on his face. Based on his experience with George’s poor decision-making and unabashed lack of self-control, Jaymi has no doubt that he has indeed slept with Harry Styles. “Please tell me you were careful and haven’t been papped. The last thing I want is for us to be known as ‘that band with the young stupid one that shagged Harry Styles’.”

George grins into his neck.

“He’s kind of an angel.”

Jaymi snorts.

“People have said the same to me about you, before they really get to know you.”

George nuzzles into his neck.

“Yeah, well. I guess he’s not so bad a guy to be compared to.”

 

*FIN*


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